


Silent

by Spaarkss



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person Limited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28808778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spaarkss/pseuds/Spaarkss
Summary: A part of George had always had a desire for Dream, but he knew he could never touch upon it. After endless days and restless nights, he realizes that if he can't get rid of how he feels, he might as well put everything on the line before it breaks him. Before he even gets a chance to gain his composure from a night of finally admitting his true feelings, three plane tickets to New York City are booked, and George only has two weeks to prepare himself for what, unbeknownst to him, will be an eye opener of what true happiness and purity brings to life.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Silent

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfic I've ever written, so I'm completely open to ideas, suggestions, critiques, and all constructive criticism you may have while reading. This story is heavily inspired, and sometimes quoted, by the book and movie, "Call Me By Your Name" by André Aciman, so if you enjoy the plot of this you will most certainly enjoy both of those works of art. This is Part 1 of a confirmed 2 Part story, so get a blanket or two, wrap yourself in a ball, and I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't want any reposts, even with credit, since this is on both wattpad and ao3 under my account. You may share through PDF's. Do not spam in content creator's chats, donations, replies, dm's, etc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George despises confrontation, but when its inedibility arises, he's met with the bitter sweet truth he'd put to the side for too long.

From the moment he settled in and had finally allowed himself to doze off he’d felt like he’d been falling; floating in mid air and gently drifting to the ground. He laid there for a moment, waiting to hear something or give him a reason to open his eyes. But nothing happened - it was only him and the piercing silence.

Finally coming to his senses, he slowly opened his eyes. Nothing but a mix of gray and white fog surrounded him.

He stood dead center of a street he’d never been to before. Not a street in the middle of nowhere, especially since there were dimly lit lamp posts every few steps down keeping the area visible, but nothing about where he stood marked a single sense of familiarity.

_ What is this place?  _ George thought to himself. 

The atmosphere here was...different - something he’d never felt before. The air was thick and heavy, and in some sense, felt like it carried a good amount of weight to it. And it was quiet, really quiet. Deafeningly silent.

He stood up, walking in circles in an effort to get a hold of where he was. A layer of fog covered the floor, his feet consumed by it. Every direction he turned was blocked by a solid wall of blurry mist. There wasn’t a single thing here other than him and the fog. 

He closed his eyes for a moment to catch his breath. The weight of the air rushing through him, leaving its presence in his lungs, and a presumable aura he couldn’t shake in his head.

Feeling alone, he let his conscious free, every thought conditionally emphasizing itself out the moment it emerged.

_ Where am I? ...Am I dreaming? _

He stumbled towards one of the lamp posts, gently grazing his fingertips against it before sliding down to its base, sitting on the ground lightly, leaning up against its structure. 

He felt alone. To an extent, he didn’t mind being alone. He shouldn’t mind this. He spent lots of time in his room anyway,  _ how was this any differen _ t?

Sometimes, being alone was peaceful - a way to get away from everything and to collect yourself. Other times it was unbecoming - copious amounts of negative thoughts and unresentful debate suffocating you. As much as he loved to think he was free when he was alone, he still dismissed the fact that it only meant he ran from himself. It worked, sometimes. Or at least that’s what he led himself on to believe. 

Whether he loved it, or had a growing, bitter hatred for it, he always knew he would need a break from himself. Everybody does. Maybe that explained why he kept frantically glancing into the fog: praying someone would appear so they could save him from himself, or praying that they wouldn’t. He still couldn’t decide which one he kept bracing himself for.

It was the direct opposite of livelihood - it was nothing. The silence here didn’t linger. Instead it left bold, weighted remarks that it existed every moment as nothingness began to drive you insane, reminding you how alone you truly were. It was a loud silence, like a ‘ _ one more moment of this and I’ll have to create a something’-  _ something as in a scream _ , with my entire soul, which, willn’t catch me by surprise, is only muffled by the sheer silence _ . It was brutal here, no reason other than the fact that it left you with yourself and nothing but. The only thing here to drive you insane was yourself. You were forced to make yourself feel something here. Forced to know yourself. Sooner or later you’d begin talking to yourself, getting to know you. Know your faults and your weaknesses. Where you find peace and what helps you come to terms. 

_ Why am I here?  _

Whenever he was desperate for a getaway, he was always able to open up to his best friends. Dream and Sapnap were easy to talk to when it came to something that was on his chest. Part of it was because they always managed to get through to him, destroying whatever walls he ever so desperately felt the need to keep up. The other part he still couldn’t figure out.

Everytime he glanced around him or peeked over his shoulder, the reality of it all would set it a little deeper - how alone he truly was.

_ I swear the walls are closing in.  _

His breaths picked up slightly. He was trying his best to remain calm, to not think, but every millisecond he was here longer only drained him of forcing himself to feel nothing. Feeling something was inevitable, but he stalled as much as he could allow himself to. 

_ Nothing is happening right now, why are you stressing yourself out? How are you stressing yourself out?  _ He felt the unresentful debate slowly begin to brew within himself. Every thought started a dangerous flame in his chest.

_ I’m not stressed, I’m fine.  _

_..You wouldn’t lie to yourself now would you?  _

_ What?  _ George scoffed,  _ Of course I wouldn’t.  _

_ Are you sure about that?  _ He heard a voice mock within him. 

_ Positive,  _ George assured, almost as if he needed the confirmation himself.

He knew he needed an outlet, but if his only vent was his own silhouette of a human perched under the beaming light, he forced himself to work with it. 

_..Why do you lie to yourself, George?  _

_ What? I don’t lie to myself? _

The voice scoffed,  _ Really? Do you even know where you are?  _

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion,  _ No?  _ Every moment he was there longer became unbearable. 

_ Oh don’t pretend, of course you know where you are. You’re just scared to admit it.  _ The voice spoke, a baleful smile audible in its tone. 

_ Scared? Of what?  _

_ Scared of you. Scared of what you know. Scared of what you don’t know. Scared of what you feel. All because you know this is the one place you can’t escape.  _

He paused for a moment, snapping out of it only to push himself away.  _ I don’t know what you’re talking about, now shut up.  _

_ What? Running from yourself again are you?  _ Now was the voice’s turn to scoff. _ When are you going to learn?  _

George was still confused.  _ Learn what?  _

_ That you can’t outrun yourself. Not when there’s nothing to run to, but everything to run from.  _

He paused for a moment, defensively shooting back,  _ I don’t run from myself. I know myself.  _ The words had tumbled out on their own before he could even consider taking them back. 

A faint laugh could be made out from the unbearable silence.  _ You say you know yourself, but you aren’t even familiar with your own head, George.  _

His breath hitched in his throat.  _ My head?  _

And with every thought getting louder. 

_ Caught your breath? What, what was this a surprise?  _

And quicker,

_ Did it surprise you that you can’t escape yourself? _

Rushing through him, and overlapping like there’s nothing left to lose, 

_ You're lying. You’re lying and you know it. Stop lying and just accept the fact that you just can’t outrun yourself.  _

He came to the realization that this place really was nothing more than just his own head, 

_ You’re stuck here.  _

His safest place.

_ Forever.  _

His deadliest poison.

_ Look around you, George. You see nothing. Your mind has nothing because it knows that’s all you’ll ever be - just a weight to the rest of the world. To you, to your friends, to your family, to Dream.  _

And after all this

He finally managed to get a word out,  _ Dream? Why’d you mention Dream?  _

The only demon he couldn’t outrun

_ Oh, you know why.  _

Was himself.

He finally stopped himself from saying anything more.  _ No, I don’t. And I’m not going to pretend I do.  _ The weight of the air made his lungs collapse and his breath unsteady, the rush of it all made him lightheaded. 

_ Of course you do. I don’t know why you’re trying to run from it? _

His head was spinning from the thoughts sleeping out before he could even catch his grasp on them,  _ run from what? _

_ What you think, what you feel, what you pretend to not notice, and what you pretend to not know. _

The feeling of coming clean to anyone, even himself sometimes, made him nauseous.  _ I don’t know what you’re talking about,  _ absolutely disgusted,  _ so shut up and get a grip.  _

His composure had completely disintegrated.  _ You love him, George, don’t you?  _

He was taken aback by his own subconscious.  _ Of course I don’t. I never have and I never will.  _ Guilt swelled in him for just the slightest moment, as though if you were so much as to blink you’d miss it and the way it had changed his perspective on his words.  _ He’s great, really, but nothing more than just a friend.  _

_ Lie after lie after lie, when will they stop, George? When will you finally admit what you’ve known was the truth for weeks now?  _

_ Who are you trying to deceive? Me? George, I’m you. You’d do anything for him. Anything. If it were taking a bullet, or ruining everyone else’s well being, including your own, you know you’d do it in a heartbeat. George, you know you. But you’re scared of you.  _

He shut his eyes, grounding himself against the lamp post in a weak attempt to regain his control.

_ You’re scared of everything. From the things you do, to the things you think, to the things you say. You’re scared. You love him. You love him. You love him. But you know you’ll never admit it.  _ Each word cut deeper and deeper, _ and so you burn it,  _ making its mark _ , all of it,  _ engraving itself in his mind, _ every last bit of it.  _

And just like that,

he was floating again.

Slightly swaying in the air, drifting through an endless void, finally meeting the familiar feeling of falling - time speeding up and the weight of himself dropping, tensing his muscles and bracing himself with everything he has to offer before hitting the ground and- 

_ Do I love Dream?  _

He woke up in a jolt, quickly taking note of the environment around him: The cat wrapped in a tight ball at the edge of the bed, sheets askew and thrown to the side of him, door slightly ajar. His hand flew to his hair, running through it desperate to feel in control of something, desperate to have something securely in his grasp. 

He could’ve just sat there and screamed - that would’ve summed up the boiling mess he felt himself become, ready to spill over at the slightest disturbance. He probably would’ve if his entire body wasn’t numb, stunned by what he admitted to himself. 

His heart hammered against his chest in strict, quick, short beats. 

He hated the fog. He wasn’t mad that he was there. How could he be, it was his own mind? Everything that was said, whether he wanted to hear it or not, was the raw, bitter sweet truth. 

He couldn't move, and even if he did he wouldn't want to anyways.

The shift from feeling completely in control of himself to losing everything he thought he was sure of in a flash left him completely on edge. So on edge that it had made him instinctively turn, eyes shutting with full force, and brace himself for what he soon after registered was just a slight buzz from a notification on his phone.. 

Hesitantly, he reached over his nightstand, flipping it over and adjusting to the brightness. 

_ Dream: GET ON DISCORD, SAPNAP AND I HAVE A SURPRISE.  _

_ Dream.  _

He checked the time,  _ 5:32am _ . 

As reluctant as he was he knew he couldn’t let himself think again, not after he had just spiraled out of control. And going back to sleep after knowing where it would take him wasn’t an option. 

He took a deep breath, slowly forcing himself out of bed. Shaky, small steps carried his weight over to his desk, booting up his pc and putting on his headphones, landing a cold, deadfaced stare into the screen as he let it take up all of his thoughts and energy. He refused to even merely come near recapping on tonight’s previous events. 

When he heard the faint sound of discord adding him into the call with Dream and Sapnap, a commotion of laughter had immediately died down and cut off, replaced with a “GEORGE,” from both of them. 

_ Deep breathes, George.  _ He hummed in response, throat still dry from the thick, heavy air stilling in his lungs. 

“Look at what Dream’s screen sharing,” Sapnap borderline shouted, struggling to contain his excitement. 

George swore he could feel his lungs give out in his chest, heart simultaneously freezing while unbearably pounding throughout his entire body. 

Dream and Sapnap only giggled at George’s response - nothing more than a stifling, shocked silence, as if silence were the only thing controlling him right now. 

Dream had finally gained his composure before breaking George’s uptight reaction. “What do u say, George? Want to come to Florida?” 

Everything felt surreal, like his entire body was nothing more than just a drift of wind in the middle of an open plain. His throat was scratchy as he cleared it, “You bought plane tickets?”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave critiques, constructive criticism, ideas, or thoughts in the comments or dm me on twitter! Chapter updates will be anywhere between a couple days and 2 weeks. 
> 
> Twitter: @LexaPlatt :)


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